"He must be tired!"
"Yes, during the last fifty hours he must have traversed near a hundred and fifty miles of forest and streams, and I doubt very much whether he has tasted food during the whole journey."
"Hunter, I have lived amongst the red men a little while now, and I have often discovered amongst them a sense of honour and an unselfish spirit that I have never seen surpassed by the members of more civilised races."
"I'm glad to hear you say it, lad. During the last fifteen years my truest friend has been a red man."
"You mean the White Eagle?"
"I do!"
"He is a great chief. I owe him my life. But for him my scalp would now be hanging at the girdle of one of his braves. I knew he would come to your rescue, too, if he only knew of your danger."
"Come to my rescue? He would have crossed the lakes and the plains to the mountains beyond, even to the utmost bounds of the Oregon River, if he had but known that my life was in danger, and he would not have expected the slightest reward; but come, let us break our fast that we may follow the trail."
"Look, trapper. There is our dinner, and a right royal one, too," said Jamie, pointing to several wild turkeys that were feeding in the half-dried bed of a little stream near by.
The hunter raised his rifle to his shoulder quickly, and fired, and one of the birds fell over, struggled for a few seconds, and then lay still with its claws in the air. Jamie rushed off to secure it, and quickly dressed it while the trapper lighted a fire, and in a few minutes this fine fat bird was roasting on a spit, scenting the forest with the smell of roast turkey, and promising to allay every pang of hunger.